


Working Through Memories

by Dancerlittle



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Grief, M/M, Memories, Mentions of alcohol, death of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancerlittle/pseuds/Dancerlittle
Summary: A fight with Spot causes Race to turn to one of his favorite activities, baking bread, as he works through his hurt and anger
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Kudos: 3





	Working Through Memories

**Author's Note:**

> There’s mention of a minor character's death in this section and talking about said character’s death. There’s a bit of my autobiographical information in this section as well. 

It was a shit day all around. He had a rough day at work, he discovered he had a flat tire when he got out of work, and him and his boyfriend had had a fight earlier that morning about something stupid. 

So he found solitude in the kitchen making one of his favorite things in the entire world - homemade bread. His nana had let him help her in the kitchen from a young age. He officially made his first loaf, from start to finish, when he was 9. Whenever he was down, the smell of fresh baked bread always comforted him. It was also the clue for any of his friends that something was wrong. 

“What’s going on Race?” Jack took a seat at the kitchen table with a glass of lemonade. “And don’t say nothin’ - you’re making bread.” 

He sighed, a smudge of flour on his cheek. “It’s been a shit day, Jack.” 

“Care to elaborate?” Jack gave him a look, his baby brother was easily read and he had some idea what was wrong. 

Kneading the dough, Race channeled his anger into the dough. “Had a fight with Spot this morning about something stupid, work was shit and I had a flat tire. I’m just done with this day.” 

“And so you’re making bread.” Jack sighed, watching him work. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Race quickly buttered a bowl, throwing the bread into it to rise. He washed his hands before joining Jack at the table. “What if Spot and I aren’t meant to be together?”

“Spot loves you Race and you love him.” The concern for his brother showed on Jack’s eyebrows. “Is this because of one fight?” 

Race shook his head. “There’s been many little fights. There’s times we pick a fight just to do so. I’m exhausted by it.”

“Do you want to break up with Spot?” Jack asked quietly, looking at Race for any signs. 

The tears were in his eyes before Jack could say another word. “God no, Jackie. He’s my soulmate and I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“So you love him, that’s good. Now we just have to figure out why you’re picking fights.” Jack took a sip of lemonade. “When was the last time you two had a date?”

Race looked at the fridge. There was a calendar that they kept track of all important dates. He moved to grab it before flipping through it. Four months, it had been four months since they had a date.

“Plan something, Race. Surprise him - take him out on the town. Do something coupley. Spend some time with each other outside of this house.” Jack gave him a look. “Has anything changed in the last four months?”

Race shrugged. “We’ve both gotten busier with work. We try to spend the weekends together but there’s always something.”

“Start making your relationship a priority. You two need to talk to one another and be aligned to what you want to do. Yes, your friends will all still be here but your relationship with Spot comes first before anything else.” Jack gave him a look, before looking over his shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” 

Jack made his exit, stopping to pat Spot on the back. Race moved to put the dough in the bread pans before putting them in the oven and setting a timer. He looked at Spot with a sad smile. “Wanna talk?” 

Spot nodded. “Let me change first. How about you grab us a beer and meet on the patio?” 

Race grabbed the beers, stepping onto the patio, fussing with his phone while he waited. He gave Spot a small smile as he took a seat and sipped at his beer. “So how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to know that you don’t want to break up.” Spot sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry Race for yelling’ at you this morning but I almost never see you anymore and if I do, we’re out with friends.”

Race took a sip, agreeing with him. “I’m sorry for yelling back at you. The moment I heard your anger, I just got defensive. Did ya know it’s been 4 months since we had a proper date?”

“That’s far too long.” Spot sighed. “So what do we do?”

Race held his hand out for Spot. “We start making us a priority. Date night at least once a week, we alternate planning them. We both agree when we go out.” 

“And we talk more.” Spot paused. “I know things have been shit with both our jobs, but we need to start talking more. I’ll talk with Itchy about changing my hours - being home earlier and spending more time with you.” 

With Race as a teacher, he was home by 4pm everyday while Spot, being a mechanic, didn’t get home until 6pm or later. 

Race blinked back the tears. “I promise to talk things out with you before we each lose our cool.”

“I promise to start planning dates for us to just be a couple.” Spot squeezed his hand. 

“This sounds like we’re making wedding vows.” Race chuckled. “I promise to ask before making plans for us.”

“And I promised to attempt to make dinner once a week for us.” Spot grinned. 

Race shook his head. “Do you want to kill me?”

“I promised to only make grilled cheese, cereal, or French Toast on the nights I make dinner.” Spot amended with a chuckle. “I promise to leave the complicated dinners to you.”

Race grinned. “I promise to make sure you’re well fed and happy.”

“I promise to cuddle with you on the bad days and make you laugh on the good days.” Spot murmured, rigging Race closer to him. “And I promise to love you forever and always.”

Race’s face softened as some of the tears escaped, running tracks down his face. “And I promised to love you forever and always. Kiss me, Spot!” 

Putting his hands on Race’s cheeks, Spot closed the distance and kissed him. They had a mini makeout session on the patio until Race’s timer went off. Pulling away with a groan, Race sighed. “Hold that thought for 2 minutes.”

He ran inside, taking the bread out of the oven, inhaling deeply. His favorite scent in the entire world. He took the bread out of the pans, letting them cool on a cooling rack. He sliced two pieces from a loaf, smearing butter on them before going back into the patio. “Peace offering.” 

“Should I start pissing you off more so I can have homemade bread?” Spot asked, biting into his piece. “This is amazing, Race.” 

Race shrugged. “‘My nana would always pull me into the kitchen and make bread with me. It’s a comfort thing. I’ll start making it more if you want.” 

“I never knew that about you.” Spot smiled. “What else would she bake?”

Race chuckled. “It’s almost easier to tell you what she wouldn't make. She would often visit us and she’d be in the house for 10 minutes and would immediately start making something - bread, dinner, cinnamon rolls - Spot she was an amazing cook and she made everything with love.”

Squeezing his hand, Spot smiled at Race. “That’s fantastic you have these great memories of her.”

“Yea. It really is.” He cleared his throat. “She passed away when I was 11 - lung cancer. I was actually thinking about her as I made the bread. Wondering what we’d talk about or how she’d love me as an adult. I only got her for 11 years. There was a long time that I resented my older family members and parents for getting more time with her. But I realized she lives on in her recipes and memories.” 

Spot smiled sadly. “She would be so damn proud of you snookums. I’m so damn proud of you. You keep her alive by continuing to make her recipes and talking about her. She lives in you.”

“Nicely done, quoting The Lion King.” Race laughed, wiping away the tears. “Thanks for listening.”

Spot leaned over and wiped his tears away. “I’ll always listen, Race. Sometimes we just gotta slow down and just talk. I promise I’ll always listen when you want to talk and talk when you want to listen.”

“I promise I’ll always listen when you want to talk and talk when you want to listen.” Race repeated, taking Spot’s hand in his and squeezing it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Racetrack Higgins.” Pulling him in, he kissed him gently with a smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one slightly got away from me - almost 1500 words. Thanks for reading! This one is very near and dear to my heart - I lost my own grandma when I was 11 and she always pulled my brother and I into the kitchen to bake and cook!! Any feedback or comments would be especially appreciated and loved. 


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